


Put Your Blue Jeans Back On

by MissYouSoFar



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissYouSoFar/pseuds/MissYouSoFar
Summary: He felt more comfortable with Kris than he did with some of his friends back home, so he didn’t filter. “No, I’m serious. It’ll be you and me.”“Whatever, man.” He said, not unkindly, bumping his shoulder against Adam’s.





	Put Your Blue Jeans Back On

“Hi,  I’m Kris,” he stuck his hand out, a kind of shy smile resting on his face.

He blinked at his outstretched hand, too used to greeting people with hugs, before taking it in his own to shake. He held it a little longer than he should have, fixing his gaze on the shorter man, but Kris didn’t look like he noticed, or cared. “Adam.”

Kris’ shy smile grew, flashing white teeth, as his head tipped back with laughter. “Everyone knows who you are, man.” He nodded over at the stage, “What you did with “Believe” -- that was. You’re going to win this thing.”

Adam chuckled, almost surprised. “I don‘t know, this group is really talented, but, if I’m there, you’ll be will me.”

“I hope so.” Kris said. The smile still on his face, didn’t match the tone of his words.

He felt more comfortable with Kris than he did with some of his friends back home, so he didn’t filter. “No, I’m serious. It’ll be you and me.”

“Whatever, man.” He said, not unkindly, bumping his shoulder against Adam’s.

Adam kind of loved him already.

\--

“So, I guess we’re roommates.” Adam’s tone was light, but he’d be dreading roommate assignments, thinking some karmic powers that be would stuck him with Danny.

"I guess so," Kris' smile was big and wholesome, sweet as apple pie and just as American.

He pushed the door open, shoving one of his suitcases inside, to keep it propped that way and motioned Kris inside. “After you,” he bowed dramatically, ignoring the tightening in his stomach at Kris’ soft laughter and, because he underestimated the space between himself and the doorframe, the light brush of Kris’ body as he stepped through, careful to not whack his guitar against anything.

“I thought I was the one with the Southern gentleman manners,” he teased.

“Well, I guess you’re rubbing off on me, Arkansas.”

\--

Adam lugged his last suitcase up to their shared room, completely unashamed when Kris eyed the sheer amount of stuff he had. Nearly half of one suitcase was more hair products than Kris knew even existed, make up and nail polish. He silently vowed to never complain about Katy’s perfumes and creams that litter their counter back home.

“I can keep most of it in my bag, if it‘ll take up too much room,” Adam offered, interpreting Kris’ bemused expression as annoyance.

Kris waved a hand dismissively. “What? No. I don’t care about that. As long as there’s room for my toothbrush, I’m good.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m kind of a low-maintenance  guy, if you haven’t noticed.”

A few hours later, when Kris offered Adam his closet -- the small dresser was enough for him --, Adam looked so happy  Kris half thought he might kiss him (and the idea wasn’t as unwelcome as Kris thought it possibly should be). He did kiss him, on the cheek, his larger body engulfing Kris’ small frame in a bear hug. “You’re the best, thank you.”

“S’nothing,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his blush heating him up. “You need it more than I do,” he added with a chuckle.

“Well, yeah -- but thanks.” His smile was so bright and happy, the kind of smile you could fall for, and Kris couldn’t help but think that, despite it being a singing contest, if Adam flashed America that smile, he could win without ever singing.

\--

“Never let me eat ice cream ever again,” Adam whined, looking a little green and holding his stomach not unlike a newly pregnant woman would.

This wasn’t the first time Adam had asked for this favor.  Instead of pointing out Adam’s colorful words, when Kris _did_ try and stop him, “But you love it,” he reminded him instead, testing the new strings of his guitar. He’d been a little frustrated last time he’d played, and the strings paid the consequences.

Adam, despite the fact  American Idol would get them almost anything they asked for -- and some really pushed it ---, bought him new ones, citing  Kris’ “someone killed my puppy” look when he’d snapped the third string, as his reason. They were glittery and flamboyant, not unlike their buyer, because, really -- _of course_ Adam would buy glittering bright pink strings, but Kris loved them.

Flopping down on the bed next to Kris, he muttered into the bedspread, “It doesn’t love me.”

Kris snorted, putting his guitar aside, looking down at his roommate, teasing, “You poor baby.”

\--

 

Kris sat on his bed, eyes closed, plucking gently to the strings of his guitar, and Adam was jealous of how _relaxed_ he looked.

“What are you playing?” Adam asked, not looking up from his nails, blowing gently at the wet polish.

Kris blinked up from his guitar, his gaze settling on Adam’s face.  A soft smile came across his face, and when, after a few minutes, he didn’t look away, Adam remember why he didn’t like to be seen without makeup. Exposed.

“You have freckles,” he said after a few more minutes.  His voice was low, warm and filled with a kind of wonder, like he’d been saying something more intimate, and Adam hated the way his heartbeat picked up.

Not expecting that, he sputtered, “What? Um, yeah, I really hate them,” he spoke softly,  like he was confessing a sin, carefully fixing his expression to sassy indifference, he raised his voice to add, “They totally don’t go with my look.” Kris still hadn’t stopped looking at him, so he kept talking, reminding him, “You haven’t answered my question.”

Kris blinked again and looked away, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. “ _Lullaby_.”

Adam‘s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I know it.”

“I don’t expect you know many Dixie Chicks’ songs,” Kris replied, chuckling.

“I love _Not Ready To Make Nice_.”

Kris smirked. “You would.”

Adam wasn’t really sure what came over him, but he asked anyway. “Will you sing it for me?”

“Lullaby?” Adam could see Kris swallow, followed the path of his Adam’s apple. “Sure.”

He shifted on his own bed, sitting up and grinning. “Let’s hear it, Allen.”

" _They didn't have you where I come from. Never knew the best was yet to come. Life began when I saw your face, and I hear your laugh like a serenade_ ," His fingers moved gracefully along the strings, playing as softly as he was singing. " _How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough, is forever enough? How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough -- 'cause I'm never, never giving you up._ "

 Kris’ movements stalled along the strings, and he looked up at Adam. “So?”

Adam kind of felt like you do when you first wake up, blurry and disoriented. “It’s sounds kind of like us,” the words were out before he could edit them to sound less -- “I mean -- except for--” He forced himself to laugh, hating how awkward he felt.

Kris had just tilted his head, the way a puppy did when they were trying to figure out what trick you were teaching them, studying him (and Adam really wished Kris’ mother had taught him staring was rude). He sang back a line of the song, “ _They didn't have you where I come from_. . .” He gestured that himself, “That has to be true.”

Kris seemed to come out of his trance, nodding and setting his guitar down next to him. “No, it does -- sound like us.”  He bit his lip, and Adam wondered what he wasn’t saying. “And yeah, there’s no one like you back in Conway. You’re one of a kind.” _Special_.

\--

"I told you it'd be you and me, didn't I?" Adam flopped onto the bed, half of his body falling on Kris.

Kris grinned into Adam's shoulder. "Lucky guess."

Adam laughed, warm and happy, twining his arms around Kris' torso. "You don't believe that."

"What was it then?"

"Fate." And somehow Adam managed to make the silent 'duh' obvious.

"It never could have been anything else," Kris agreed. "So, who do you think will win then, Mr. Destiny?"

Adam grinned and doesn't bother answering, dipping his head to kiss Kris instead. They'd find out tomorrow.  



End file.
